第 22 节
作者:古诗乐      更新:2024-11-30 11:15      字数:7485
  SIR PAUL。      I suppose they have been laying their heads together。
  LORD FROTH。          How?
  SIR    PAUL。    Nay;    only   about  poetry;  I  suppose;  my   lord;  making
  couplets。
  LORD FROTH。          Couplets。
  SIR PAUL。      Oh; here they come。
  SCENE XXI。
  'To them' LADY FROTH; BRISK。
  BRISK。      My   lord;   your   humble   servant;   Sir   Paul;   yours;the   finest
  night!
  LADY FROTH。          My  dear; Mr。  Brisk and   I have   been star…gazing;  I
  don't know how long。
  SIR PAUL。       Does it not tire your ladyship?     Are not you weary with
  looking up?
  LADY      FROTH。      Oh;    no;  I  love  it  violently。  My    dear;  you're
  melancholy。
  LORD FROTH。          No; my dear; I'm but just awake。
  LADY FROTH。          Snuff some of my spirit of hartshorn。
  LORD FROTH。          I've some of my own; thank you; dear。
  LADY FROTH。          Well; I swear; Mr。 Brisk; you understood astronomy
  like an old Egyptian。
  BRISK。      Not comparably to your ladyship; you are the very Cynthia
  of the skies; and queen of stars。
  LADY      FROTH。      That's    because   I  have  no   light  but  what's  by
  reflection from you; who are the sun。
  BRISK。      Madam; you have eclipsed me quite; let me perish。          I can't
  answer that。
  LADY   FROTH。        No    matter。  Hark    'ee;  shall  you  and  I  make  an
  almanac together?
  BRISK。      With all my soul。     Your ladyship has made me the man in't
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  already; I'm so full of the wounds which you have given。
  LADY FROTH。         O finely taken!    I swear now you are even with me。
  O Parnassus; you have an infinite deal of wit。
  SIR PAUL。      So he has; gads…bud; and so has your ladyship。
  SCENE XXII。
  'To them' LADY PLYANT; CARELESS; CYNTHIA。
  LADY PLYANT。          You tell me most surprising things; bless me; who
  would ever trust a man?       Oh my heart aches for fear they should be all
  deceitful alike。
  CARE。       You    need   not  fear;  madam;    you   have   charms    to  fix
  inconstancy itself。
  LADY PLYANT。         O dear; you make me blush。
  LORD FROTH。         Come; my dear; shall we take leave of my lord and
  lady?
  CYNT。      They'll wait upon your lordship presently。
  LADY FROTH。         Mr。 Brisk; my coach shall set you down。
  ALL。     What's   the   matter?  'A   great   shriek   from   the   corner   of   the
  stage。'
  SCENE XXIII。
  'To them' LADY TOUCHWOOD runs out affrighted; my lord after
  her; like a parson。
  LADY TOUCH。          Oh; I'm betrayed。    Save me; help me!
  LORD TOUCH。          Now what evasion; strumpet?
  LADY TOUCH。          Stand off; let me go。
  LORD TOUCH。          Go; and thy own infamy pursue thee。        You stare as
  you were all amazed;I don't wonder at it;but too soon you'll know mine;
  and that woman's shame。
  SCENE the last。
  LORD     TOUCHWOOD;          LORD     FROTH;     LADY   FROTH;      LADY
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  PLYANT;        SIR     PAUL;      CYNTHIA;         MELLEFONT;          MASKWELL;
  MELLEFONT disguised in a parson's habit and pulling in MASKWELL。
  MEL。      Nay; by heaven you shall be seen。          Careless; your hand。       Do
  you hold down your head?           Yes; I am your chaplain; look in the face of
  your injured friend; thou wonder of all falsehood。
  LORD TOUCH。            Are you silent; monster?
  MEL。      Good heavens!        How I believed and loved this man!             Take
  him hence; for he's a disease to my sight。
  LORD TOUCH。            Secure that manifold villain。       'Servants seize him。'
  CARE。      Miracle of ingratitude!
  BRISK。       This is all very surprising; let me perish。
  LADY  FROTH。           You   know   I   told   you   Saturn   looked   a   little   more
  angry than usual。
  LORD   TOUCH。           We'll   think   of   punishment   at   leisure;   but   let   me
  hasten to do justice in rewarding virtue and wronged innocence。               Nephew;
  I hope I have your pardon; and Cynthia's。
  MEL。      We are your lordship's creatures。
  LORD   TOUCH。           And   be   each   other's   comfort。  Let   me   join   your
  hands。 Unwearied nights; and wishing days attend you both; mutual love;
  lasting health; and circling joys; tread round each happy year of your long
  lives。
  Let   secret   villany   from   hence    be   warned;    Howe'er     in  private
  mischiefs are conceived; Torture and shame attend their open birth; Like
  vipers in the womb; base treachery lies; Still gnawing that; whence first it
  did arise; No sooner born; but the vile parent dies。
  'Exeunt Omnes。'
  EPILOGUESpoken by Mrs。 Mountford。
  Could   poets   but   foresee   how   plays   would   take; Then   they  could   tell
  what epilogues to make; Whether to thank or blame their audience most。
  But   that   late   knowledge   does   much   hazard   cost:   Till   dice   are   thrown;
  there's nothing won; nor lost。 So; till the thief has stolen; he cannot know
  Whether      he  shall  escape   the  law;   or  no。  But  poets   run   much    greater
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  hazards far Than they who stand their trials at the bar。 The law provides a
  curb   for   it's   own   fury;   And   suffers   judges   to   direct   the   jury:   But   in   this
  court;   what difference   does   appear!   For   every  one's   both   judge   and   jury
  here; Nay; and what's worse; an executioner。 All have a right and title to
  some part; Each choosing that in which he has most art。 The dreadful men
  of learning   all   confound; Unless   the  fable's   good; and   moral   sound。 The
  vizor…masks; that are in pit and gallery; Approve; or damn; the repartee and
  raillery。   The   lady   critics;   who   are   better   read;   Inquire   if   characters   are
  nicely bred; If the soft things are penned and spoke with grace; They judge
  of action too; and time; and place; In which we do not doubt but they're
  discerning; For that's a kind of assignation learning。 Beaus judge of dress;
  the   witlings    judge    of  songs;    The   cuckoldom;      of  ancient    right;  to   cits
  belongs。 Thus poor poets the favour are denied Even to make exceptions;
  when they're tried。 'Tis hard that they must every one admit: Methinks I
  see some faces in the pit Which must of consequence be foes to wit。 You
  who can judge; to sentence may proceed; But though he cannot write; let
  him be freed At least from their contempt who cannot read。
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